The Weight Of Us
by eau de toilette
Summary: He keeps on living—surviving, because his life has always been a lie, a façade. Until... Rivetra week 2015, day five.


_**A/N:**__ This was written for Rivetra week 2015, using undercover as a prompt for day 5._

_Disclaimer: Shingeki no Kyojin and its characters are property of Hajime Isayama._

* * *

**The Weight Of Us**

**.**

**.**

Everything is broken. The world has always been unsurprisingly corrupt and full of tangled misconceptions that sometimes, there's nothing to do. But he keeps on living—surviving, because his life has always been a lie, a _façade_.

He didn't have a choice after all, even though his mind always reminds him of how many families he's possibly broken, but it's not his fault, some fathers and mothers just decide to take the wrong path of envy and revenge, it's them the ones to blame. And the children have to carry with the burden of loss and unhidden meanings for the rest of their lives. It's not a surprise; it's always been like this.

Before he entered the tiny office located at the corner of an old street, the man took a look at the pale sky, briefly wondering about the reason of why every evening looks different, and why he realized it until now.

.

.

Staring lazily at the unimpressive fan that hangs in the center of the room, he heard firm footsteps coming from the door.

"Erwin. Do you have coffee somewhere?" Ah, the well known features of his comrade. A really tall man appeared, with blonde hair, broad shoulders and enigmatic eyes, wearing his usual dark brown coat, gray trousers and polished shoes. He could be any woman's dream, really, if only he didn´t have a double lifestyle.

"I'm afraid the machine is broken."

"Fucking Hanji." Said the man, crossing his arms.

"The cigars are over there." Erwin sat on his chair, his composure perfect, calculated.

"What's the deal now?" The fog of his cigar fulfilled the atmosphere, as he took it between his calloused fingers. He would've preferred it of another brand, but it was okay. He's always been good with adapting to change.

Erwin stared at him for a moment. Then, in measured stealth, he placed a wriggled document across the desk.

"This might interest you."

"Spit it out, I don't have all the evening."

"There's an important suspect in the famous case of the murder of your long distance relative, Mikasa Ackerman."

The man, who has dark hair and profound bags under his eyes, gave him a questioning look. One of his eyebrows arched, never leaving its expression as he opened the file quietly. Mikasa, his only relative, he remembered her as a young woman with high skills and mature words. They weren't even close; in fact, she acted as a superior towards him, a _brat_ she was after all. Then, one day she was found, stabbed on her heart by a kitchen knife, long splashes of red around the floor made of wood. Her pained and haunted expression showed him regrets and unfilled dreams. She, as impassive her face always looked, was a young girl after all. Of course he needed revenge, it was his job, he lived on _this_, and there was no time for grieving or relying.

"We haven't found the exact target, but as you may see." The blonde man placed his finger on the map, tracing an imaginary circle on a red mark. "These are the surroundings."

"Does anyone know about this situation?"

"I think you're the most proper one for this."

"What do you want me to do then?" He gave one last smoke, finding repulsive the taste after a long time.

"That is simple Levi. Move in there."

The raven haired man nodded quietly, neglecting his offer of hanging out with Hanji at the bar, he's got better things to do.

But first, he needed a shower.

.

.

He lives in a small neighborhood, surrounded by average families and old widows. He wakes up, goes to work — because yes, he works in a company — eats and drinks black tea. But when the night arrives with its creeping shadows and haunting silences, he disappears to search on his targets, and this is _living_ for him.

One morning, he went to the local market, in search of supplies and food. All went normal and perhaps a little ordinary, until he saw a woman at the parking lot trying to carry a canine's food package. He, unimpressed by others peoples trivial struggles, never _knew_ what made him help her.

On his skilled memory, he never forgot the fine features, the round nose and big eyes. She was a petite young woman; on a first look it was easy to think she was a simple plain one, like the ones from cheap magazines. But in the daylight, her short hair shined through the sun rays, and he wanted to look away. But he _couldn't._

"Thank you." She smiled shyly; she had perfect white teeth and fine lips.

He wondered why he noticed it.

"You should be careful with heavy things, miss."

"Oh. I certainly am but _Bobby_ hasn't had a proper ration of this brand. It's his favorite."

"Bobby?"

"He's a golden retriever." She closed the trunk carefully. "I've seen you before. You're the new neighbor, aren't you?"

"Yeah." The man is about to leave, he isn't used to warm conversations, but the petite woman kept on insisting.

"I live in a few blocks behind. My name is Petra."

She offered her hand but frowned at the lack of response.

"I'm sorry, but it's rude to stare."

"Ah, so you have a temper."

His blunt answer made her frown even more. Petra sighed, giving a dismissing wave. "Alright, thank you again. I'm leaving."

"My name is Levin." He said seconds later, and somehow, he felt something unusual at lying to the woman.

"Nice to meet you Levin!" The young woman exclaimed brightly, her features softening. "As a thank you, accept my invitation to take tea with me at my flat."

"Whatever." It was his reply, but something on him made her realize it was his way of accepting things.

She tried to greet him with her hand one more time, and he quickly clasped his hand on hers.

And for the first time in unknown ages, he forgot his real self for some moments.

.

.

A corpulent man fell to the ground; his coarse breath became frenetic as minutes passed by.

He felt a painful punch on his abdomen, he was too tired to even think, but he clearly saw the firm figure of a short man with something that resembled of a gun on his left hand.

"Do you have something to say?"

"Fuck you and your unworthy team of corrupt people!"

"Okay."

On his last moments of living, the man felt his steady heartbeat at its highest point, and, when he tried to think of something, he simply couldn't. He froze suddenly, and darkness greeted him into afterlife.

The dark haired man cleaned his gun with a piece of cloth. _The prey and the hunter_. In the end, there was only a winner.

He walked through the alleyway, his shadow confusing the silent night, and _hell_, he needed a drink.

.

.

Next morning, he encountered her, while checking the mailbox. He tried to be focused on the letters on his hands, but in brief moments the young woman was already next to him.

"Hi Levin, seems like you forgot my invitation." There was no hesitation on her words, he was wrong with thinking she was an average woman of her age, her, with her faded overall and red sandals.

"I've been away." And it was a fact.

"Oh." Her lips curled in understatement, and her amber eyes blinked. "Are you available now? You should come now and take some tea."

Levi thought for a moment if he was wrong at thinking she was being a little casual for his liking, but a very rare times his suppositions went wrong and certainly she was being way _too_ friendly. And it disturbed him for some reason. Maybe if he accepted, probably this girl would end pleased for his help — he only helped her with a package — and never cross paths with him again.

"Fine. Just give me half an hour." He replied finally, sighing defeated at the delighted look of the young woman.

"Of course! My flat has this old wooden door, and flowers outside. See you then."

She was walking towards the street, stopping when the man called after her:

"Petra, is it?"

She, —Petra, nodded in agreement, her features looking lovely at the sight of the man's inquiring look. She disappeared minutes later from his view, as she crossed the white bridge near a small lake.

.

.

When she greeted him at her home's door, a dog with fine hair and brown eyes barked at him, as if daring him.

"Ah." _So this is Bobby_. Levi wasn't used to deal with pets, so he gave an awkward pat on the animal's head.

"He acts like that when someone he doesn't know arrives, don't worry."

"Do people come here often?" He asked, and, noticing the double meaning of his question, she gave a tiny laugh.

"Just my friends during the weekends." Petra guided him to the kitchen, the flat had a feminine atmosphere, yet at the same time it was warming. It seemed she was fond of photography and art, since she had plenty of pictures on a wall, a charming touch indeed coming from a girl. The slight scent of tea filled his nostrils, as he waited quietly on the table.

"I don't like pastries." Levi replied after she put a plate of delicacies in front of him.

"That's a shame." Petra said. Her eyebrows frowned in an expression that resembled him of disapproval and possibly embarrassment. "I run a bakery you know. If you liked sweets, you would surely get good discounts at the store!"

A silence filled the room. The young woman adjusted her kitchen´s apron, and smiled.

_Goddammit, why does she smile so much?_

"Are you implying that you want me to be your friend?" He crossed his arms, boring his gaze into hers. She was definitively naive if he wanted to.

"I don't know. Maybe." Petra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling this time uneasy at his impassive gaze.

"You're so stupid if you think that´s a possibility." It was. In his world, there was no time for friendships or silly talks. And much less with someone so innocent like her.

"Okay." She turned around, humming a popular song for some minutes on the oven. A porcelain tea set was put on the table, and the sound of the dark liquid roamed on his ears.

"Hope you like it." She said simply, sitting on the opposite side of the table.

He never forgot its taste, non-sugary and strong. It was perfect, honestly, and as time passed by, his sips were fewer, not wanting to finish his cup. If the copper haired woman knew his opinion that night, it was in the way his lips turned into a thin line, his features drawing in concentration.

He left sometime after, not saying a proper goodbye, but he helped her to clean the tea set. He felt relieved, weightless at the thought of not talking to her anymore. The less interaction, the better.

That night, he went to work again.

Days turned into weeks, and each time, after he came back on his usual killings, he often thought of _her_ and the glittery hue of her eyes, and somehow, it helped him to sleep, even though his sleeping pattern lacked on resting.

Soon, Levi learned where she exactly worked, a popular bakery near the buildings, and sometimes, when he had time, he wandered around the surroundings, in search of seeing a petite woman at least for some glimpses.

The ones who usually visited her at home were her longtime friends, three men surprisingly taller than her, and they often were seen helping her doing the chores or taking walks with Bobby. She, always smiling, was so genuine in her own way, that it was a matter of time until she crept on his thoughts, unwilling to leave him alone.

It was almost midnight, and Erwin was absent on his requirements since days ago, so he went to her home and as he opened the door, he looked at her with surprise, finding her with watery eyes and a blotchy nose.

He told himself plenty of times that he shouldn't have went that night. He was no good man, and also a failure with women but as Petra told him quietly that it was her first birthday without her father, he had the desire, the need to be next to her, until she gained the confidence to smile again.

"I've seen you Levin, looking for me in each opportunity you have."

She was so simple, and at the same time, a wonder. Her eyes looked darker, mysterious, a mixture of innocence with her white pajamas and maturity on her words. She took a tentative step towards him, decisive on her next question.

"Do you want to be my friend?"

"More than that." He whispered quietly, closing the door and claiming his lips on hers, both noticing the sudden turn of events and consequences, there was no going back.

.

.

They grew closer each day, even though he was terrible at being affectionate or with showing displays of attention, but he sent her sunflowers at the bakery each Monday and sometimes hanged out with her friends. Oluo, Eld and Gunther were their names, and they weren't exactly good mannered for his liking, but they cared for her as a little sister. He learned she dropped college and that she was skilled at sewing, that she didn't like pancakes with honey during mornings and was afraid of thunderstorms.

Petra had her flaws, as any other human, way _too_ worrisome, headstrong, and close minded but she was young, and at the same time, patient with him.

The nights were filled with long intervals of passion and loving, with all types of kissing and discovering each bit of skin possible. Levi never thought someone could be so warm as her, and with every sigh she gave each time their legs were tangled against each other, in frenetic motion, long waves of pleasure would fulfill him and he swore to any existing being he could reach the stars.

However, sometimes he disappeared without a trace for days, in search of his next victim and, after Erwin told him to leave for a while, he would go to see her.

Petra always greeted him with a tight hug, kissing one of his ears, and as they remained wrapped around each other, he knew she understood to not ask about his disappearances.

Because she loved him…and he loved her _too_.

.

.

The first signs of spring were visible everywhere, tiny flowers of different colors dancing across the blocks, bright green and fragile leaves in trees, the welcoming sight of the sun in the morning saying its first hello each day.

He is a man who lives — survives through the night; his life may have changed, but not his true nature and his real purposes of living.

He is in the same office, but this time something feels different.

"We've found the target." Erwin took a sip of his old ceramic cup. "Ah, the machine is now working properly."

"Name?" Levi kept still, crossing his arms in wait for the answer.

"Don't you want a cigarette first?"

"I don't smoke anymore."

"So, you've changed." He noticed the mocking tone on Erwin's voice, a vague feeling of where this may be leading.

"I still kill people, so I don't see the change."

"You know what I'm talking _about_."

"Where is the joke Erwin?"

"Her name is Petra Ral." Maybe he did see it coming, maybe he did know it since the beginning, but the only thing he could see at that moment wasn't Erwin's serious look, it was _her_. Her, with the old faded overall and red shoes, her worn out white pajamas and her flowery scent. Her, with her wide amber eyes each time she welcomed him for breakfast, the tiny scar near her upper lip and her short red hair. Her, with her breathtaking kisses and soft snores while sleeping. And Bobby, that _fucking dog_ who he was getting used to see in the moment the door of her—_their_ home opened.

What was he thinking?

_Who was the monster now? _

"You've got to be kidding." Levi laughed, _really_ laughed, and he is man of rare laughs.

"Everything leads to _her_. It was hard to reveal it, since she seems to have a quiet life." The blonde haired man handled him a yellow file, and he felt the beginning of his own destruction.

He opened the file, and then looked away. The vivid image of Mikasa came to his view, and her desire to run away from the ties of being a killer and being free. She glowed against the pale twilight, running to some unknown place, where she deserved to be. Suddenly he saw blood and the frame of Petra holding a kitchen knife on one of her hands, scarlet liquid around her arms.

And he _knew_.

"Fuck you motherfucker!" The dark haired man jumped on Erwin's huge stature, both crashing to the ground. The cup also fell, streaming all over the taller man's coat. Rages of anger consumed his veins, not stopping to punch his superior. He wanted him dead.

Both struggled for some time, until Erwin captured him on his neck, giving strong pressure on his pulse. His breathing started to fail, and Levi felt himself flying backwards, hitting on the desk.

"I understand your affection for the woman, but there are other matters to obey."

"And what if I don't want to do it?" He man spitted blood of his mouth. He felt pure hatred towards this man, who at the same time was his comrade. He hated him, for whom they both were, and that his decisions have leaded him to the man he is nowadays; there was no escape, nor happy ending. Because all was a lie, and the world was much crueler than he once thought.

"Is not seeking of revenge, its called payback. For the lost lives of our comrades, this is the assassin's life. And _you_ belong to it Levi."

He felt an upcoming headache on his head, and regaining his composure, he stood up, not bothering to look at the mess he'd caused.

"What do you want me to do then?"

"You know what you have to do."

The answer echoed through his mind as he exited the place, the silent night mocking for what could be his last taste of all the things he grasped.

.

.

He carried on his gun, hiding it behind his dark coat as he entered the flat. The sound of the keys she'd given him weeks ago resonated around the hall, and he stopped quietly.

Oddly enough, the dog was nowhere to be seen and if he once felt warm on this place, all he could feel at that moment was cold, fragility.

He walked upstairs in a slow pace, aware of any movement. Looking for her at the bedroom, he hold a breath at discovering there was no trace of her, but the sheets looked rustled. She had been there before.

"Hey" a tiny hand grasped on his arm, he turned around, and there _she_ was. "I didn't hear you arrive."

"Where were you?"

"In the bathroom." It could be too easy to believe she was innocent. But her hands were printed with blood. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"I'm just tired." It wasn't a lie, it sounded so honest, so broken that when he looked into her eyes, all he wanted was to kiss her, to forget what they both were. _**Liars.**_

He pressed his lips on hers, firmly, hungrily. She responded immediately, willing, roaming her hands on his neck and around his undercut. He bit on her lower lip, looking for a sign of approval. She moaned in search of air, allowing his tongue on her mouth, savoring the feel of hers and the sticky sensation of minty toothpaste. It could be too easy to knock her down, but he didn't.

Instead, the young woman hit him on his ribs, and he grabbed her arms with violence, struggling at the sudden force. He held by her neck, as she pointed his forehead with the gun —his gun.

"Don't you dare to move!" She ordered, her eyes haunted by memories, the voice not so sweet anymore.

His grasp faltered, watching her running from the room. He followed her with speed, from the room until the old stairs that lead them to the rooftops of the house.

"I said stop!" Petra pointed at him one more time, a long gap dividing them. "I know your name doesn't end with _n_ and that your second one is Ackerman."

There was no time for explanations; he simply did not want to know anymore.

"You killed my cousin."

The red haired woman laughed in joy, as if discovering a secret, her most treasured dark secret. But her laughs turned into sobs and she was crying.

"_I did_." She said without any hint of regret."But she was _the one_ who killed my father, when the one to blame was my uncle, his twin brother."

"Petra, I.."

"He did _nothing_ to deserve that. He was the only person I _had_." Suddenly she resembled like a young child, with destroyed dreams and a sad smile.

"I loved you Petra."

"I've loved _no one_ but you Levi. It was never a lie." She waved the gun carelessly. "I loved you since I laid my eyes on you for the first time; you've made me feel special and loved, at least for a while. And I'm _grateful_."

He felt his body weaken at her confession. For the last months, it may have been a fake affair but it was never a lie. _And he was grateful too_.

"Petra, what the hell are you doing?" He panicked at the sight of her, taking tentative steps on the corner of the roof. If only he could distract her and throw the gun away.

"I know you won't do it. But their seeking of seeing the last member of the Rals dead is never ending." She trembled as she continued pointing him.

"Don't you fucking dare Petra!"

"But it's better this way, I'm sorry Levi." She moved the gun to her head, and before he could scream, she pulled the trigger, and she fell.

_It was the end._

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_**A/N:**_ _I suppose it´s proper to add a little trivia on here. Levi moved in to her flat, but kept his original house. I think Petra realized about Levi´s double life vaguely because he reminded her of Mikasa sometimes and even though she had the change to probably run away, eventually she was going to get killed._

_But they **did** love each other genuinely, so yeah._


End file.
